


Squeeze

by merelyafigment, visionofblue (merelyafigment)



Category: Oz (TV)
Genre: (Miguel and Ryan respectively), Community: hardtime100, Gratuitous Licking, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, gratuitous creepy observation, who wants an orange now?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 10:41:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29488476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/merelyafigment, https://archiveofourown.org/users/merelyafigment/pseuds/visionofblue
Summary: Ryan O'Reily is always observing his fellow inmates, and Miguel Alvarez's lunchtime habits are no exception.
Relationships: Miguel Alvarez/Ryan O'Reily
Comments: 8
Kudos: 8





	Squeeze

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Notes** : For the hardtime100 community (on Dreamwidth and LJ) Flashfic Challenge 123: Habits

Fuck, why couldn't this be one of the days Alvarez fucking moped and hung his head on the table instead of eating, acting like a whipped dog? 

Was that something Ryan O'Reily actually wanted, though? It gained him nothing really, Alvarez being low. Plus it was just-- it was a fucking bummer to watch the guy who kept cutting pieces of himself away, trying to escape this hellhole with sheet-ropes and shanks, just rest his head on the table in hopelessness instead of eating some days. It was a shitty view for Ryan when it happened, in an already shitty tableau of all the motherfuckers in Oz chewing with their mouths open. 

But today, Miguel Alvarez was practically grinning, what was probably some teasing patter spilling out of his mouth over those two old fucks he was sitting with. He was _moving_ in his seated position on the bench. Not getting up, just like a little internal rhythm was fueling his smirk and whatever he'd just said. It gave him almost a sway to his hips without moving his ass from the bench, flowing even to his hands as he gave his orange a toss before settling in to peel it. 

Nah, the broody fuck had definitely picked his head up today. Alvarez had gotten a tray of food and everything. (He didn't always.) A wry little smirk had greeted Ryan earlier when Alvarez had loped through the chow line before. Ryan's station was the last stop, and the spoonful of thin instant mashed potatoes he'd dispassionately slopped on Alvarez's tray had made the fresh orange bobble a bit where it was perched in the adjacent divided section. _"At least it's not fucking apples today."_ Alvarez's low distinct voice had sounded not _pleased_ , exactly, but it lacked the consuming darkness his eyes sometimes held when he was really sunk into whatever fresh hell was dragging the guy down. (O'Reily knew part of it-- Alvarez was on his own in here now. Yeah, Ryan knew exactly what that was like. He'd just moped less and moved more to keep his ass safe.) He'd seemed genuine in his relief over the lack of apples. 

Miguel Alvarez was generally not the biggest fan of fresh fruit. (Process it and slather it with sugar and syrup, or imitate its flavor in a lollipop, and it was more the man's style.) Ryan knew this, because he knew a lot of shit. Downside to observing your fellow inmates? You soaked up a lot of useless little tidbits about their lives and preferences. (Never knew what could prove useful until you had occasion to use it, after all. Food could be spiked, so it was generally a good idea to see what everybody liked to eat. Just in case.) Working the line in the cafeteria gave Ryan ample opportunity to do that, as well as helping him keep an eye on the current dynamics between people. 

But like today, there was always useless shit to notice, too. Alvarez wasn't really on his list of people whose food he might need to fuck with one day. Never really had been. When Alvarez had led, El Norte hadn't been an irritant to Ryan. And when he didn't anymore-- the new bosses had been the irritants drawing Ryan's focus, Alvarez had just been an obedient soldier. And kind of a smart ass. 

Alvarez didn't sit with El Norte anymore, and Rebadow and Busmalis let anybody who didn't fuck with them sit there. Alvarez liked to chat with the crazy old fuck who used to think he spoke to God. (Well, when the loco Latino was actually up to talking, and not taking his pathetic lunchtime naps of despair, sitting slumped over onto the cold hard tables.) 

Today, he was peeling his orange and engaging in that chatter. The crazy old fuck section was sitting right at the end of the table today, closest to the kitchen line, right in front of Ryan. 

Ryan saw things because he paid attention, always, even to the little shit that seemed meaningless. It was in his nature. Plus, he was pointed right at the guy, and he only needed like one third of that attention on the trays and cocksuckers sliding in front of him. Less if it was a Nazi, because he didn't care if he got shitty potatoes on their shitty nuggets. And he didn't care when they grumbled either, because he barely had to look at them to sneer effectively. 

No, Alvarez was not having a bleak day today. 

Just a messy one. 

The man was as upbeat as he ever was anymore, with that sway occasionally accompanying his words, and only like half of _his_ attention on peeling his damn orange. 

They were juicy today. (Ryan knew, on account of already having snagged and eaten two of them.) 

If he hadn't, though, he'd be well fucking aware now, with the spray of juice gushing out as Alvarez's surprisingly slender and deft fingers ripped into the peel. 

Soaked his fingers, running down the hand holding it. Sure, there was a bit of space between the tables and the line, but Ryan had excellent eyesight and the asshole was _right there_ , still close enough to see juice trailing unattended over tawny skin-- 

\--until Alvarez attended to it, turning his upward tug of lips towards skin. His tongue lapping around his fingers before darting over his wrist, savoring the juice right off of his skin, with his always sharp mouth. 

(Sticky. Miguel and everything he touched would be sticky. Just like Ryan had been when he'd eaten his oranges before it was time to wash up and man the slop line.) 

... 

Why couldn't it have been one of that motherfucker's bad days? 

(Was that what Ryan really wanted?) 

Screw this. Next time the oranges were this good and messy, maybe Ryan would suggest turning them into fresh juice instead. 

Popping a freed slice into his mouth, Alvarez's face did this thing, just the briefest moment as his eyes fluttered closed for a second too long-- okay, Alvarez didn't like apples. But he enjoyed a good juicy orange just fucking fine. 

Juice would be a shit ton of work. Nah, maybe it wouldn't be worth it. 

And maybe Ryan would pocket one of today's rare good sweet juicy batch before he left. 

For himself. 

Nobody else. 

Not-- Alvarez did play cards with them sometimes. Would be nice to have something other than money to honey the pot with. Maybe he could tempt Alvarez to put in cash, or a pill from the Ward, if there was an orange up for grabs. 

Ryan usually won anyways, so he'd probably end up with both. He'd fucking try to win. 

Alvarez was still dripping and eating when Ryan glanced at him again. (Ryan scanned the whole cafeteria, he didn't just stare at--) Dripped all the way down his arm that time, in a barely seen meandering trail. Alvarez looked a little annoyed, but in a casual, not overly invested way, before-- 

Fuck. 

They had fucking napkins for Christ's sake! Sure, the State skimped and nobody was allowed to grab a ton, but-- Napkins. Fucking. Existed. There was one right on Alvarez's tray. 

Miguel used his tongue again, oblivious, mouthing his own arm. Wearing one of those shirts of his he'd hacked the fucking sleeves off of, so there was nothing but skin for the juice to slide over, nothing to absorb it. (Except his mouth.) 

It was like he didn't want to let any of it get away from him, wanted to lick and suck it all up. 

Ryan didn't always win (not at cards, anyway, just when it counted), so maybe... 

...maybe Ryan would put a filched orange up to bet, and maybe Alvarez would have another good day. 

And end up with another thing to savor. 

Could happen. Luck was a fickle bitch even Ryan couldn't entirely control. 

(There were a few things Ryan couldn't entirely control, sometimes even certain things inside of himself.) 

Fucking oranges. 

And fucking-- Ryan's own mind (and body) always noticing things. 

Especially when they were right in front of him. 

Ryan knew himself, too. Knew the head he lived in even better than the lives he watched play out in front of him, looking for anything he could use. He knew-- fuck, he knew just how much he lied, about just how many things. Formed his life out of them to survive. (Out of habit. Fear. For safety. Because it was easier. Ryan had a list of reasons he'd locked parts of himself away, especially here behind steel and stone.) 

Miguel grinned again, just a little, another flash as another slice got devoured. Sticky skin, strength and flowing movements, and those eyes that swallowed everything. Alone, and usually fucking brooding, struggling now after toughing it out for so long. When Ryan had landed in here alone years ago, he'd found his footing fucking fast. Alvarez had scraped through the shit this long, though -- his strange misplaced loyalty had just fucked him over. 

But today, Alvarez was grabbing and just enjoying one thing, instead of resting his head on the table, worn out. 

Either way, he seemed to always be right in front of Ryan's gaze. 

Ryan knew a lot of shit, especially about himself, no matter how dumb he played occasionally, routinely ignoring his own... 

...maybe he should stop playing himself for such a sucker. (Stop lying, just to himself.) 

Didn't mean he had to share what was going on in his head. 

Maybe he'd share his oranges, though. 

Maybe. 

Maybe Miguel would get lucky for fucking once and win one. 

***  
End

**Author's Note:**

>  **Endnotes** : Okay, fine, I cheated a little. I wrote this after being inspired by a random tumblr post about sharing fruit, and _then_ saw that it fit this challenge. It was also influenced by [temis](/users/temis/), who caused Ryan's denial to dissolve a bit more at the end.


End file.
